


wishing for a sunrise (one that doesn't end without you)

by inkwelled



Category: Captain Marvel (2019)
Genre: F/F, Family Fluff, Gentle Kissing, Happy Ending, Hugs, Implied Sexual Content, Inspired by Fanart, Inspired by Twitter, Pining, Post-Canon, Returning Home, Romantic Fluff, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-09
Updated: 2019-05-09
Packaged: 2020-02-28 20:52:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18764011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inkwelled/pseuds/inkwelled
Summary: In hindsight, Maria wonders why she ever doubted that Carol would come back to her.





	wishing for a sunrise (one that doesn't end without you)

**Author's Note:**

> the title comes from [stay still](https://genius.com/Exes-and-jome-stay-still-lyrics) by exes and jome but it's funny bc for so long i thought it was "a sunrise" instead of "a storyline" in the pre-chorus, so that's where i got this from.
> 
> inspired by [this absolutely stunning cm art that the carolmaria gc lowkey bullied me into writing a fic for but for a good reason that i can't even be mad about](https://twitter.com/metaldamage/status/1125612971810598914) by [metaldamage on twitter](https://twitter.com/metaldamage)
> 
> enjoy!

In hindsight, Maria wonders why she ever doubted that Carol would come back to her.

Carol's always been a constant in her life, long before and after Monica's birth. She wonders when it changed in her mind - wonders at one point she stopped expecting Carol to be in the kitchen in the mornings, leaning against the countertop and drinking coffee from the mug Monica presented her with, shaky airplane carved into the side.

She always loved that damn mug.

Maria thinks faintly that she stopped expecting Carol after the explosion and crash of the jet - or as she knows now, the attack on the jet and consequential destruction that makes Carol's hands and eyes light up like a Christmas tree.

It's handy on cold winter nights and for quick cups of tea. It's been three years since Maria saw Carol last.

She knows Monica sits on the back porch every night after supper no matter the circumstances, tells her friends that her mom needs her home after dinner.

Monica lies. Maria gets it.

After she's tucked Monica into bed and ignored the mug on Monica's desk, the one Carol so treasured from Monica's brief stint with pottery, Maria sits on the back porch herself. Some nights she's wrapped in a blanket, other times accompanied by a fan she drags out of the house.

Always with her hands wrapped around the picture of them on Christmas.

Damn Carol Danvers.

Maria knows Carol has an obligation to the universe - a thought she still struggles to wrap her mind around _but when has Carol and her very existence ever been easy to understan_ d - but she selfishly wishes Monica would thunder down the stairs one morning and her face wouldn't fall when it's only Maria at the table, the seat next to her empty.

The empty chair at the dining room table isn't as bad as the gap in Maria's closet, space next to her in bed.

Carol's pillow has long since kissed her cheek. Has long lost her scent.

Maria presses her face into it every night, regardless.

The other side of the bed is always cold.

She craves the warmth that always radiated off of Carol, even before she could punch through jets and fly circles around their known planets, not even speaking of the ones Maria doesn't yet know.

"I love you," Maria had ached to whisper into Carol's neck when she pulled her close, that night she flew to space to help Talos and his family find safety. She hadn't.

She hates herself a little more every day for that.

Faintly, she thinks she hates Carol for taking the last physical part of herself. It had felt _right_ when Carol slipped on the leather jacket that had so long slept in Maria's closet after when Monica got it stained in ketchup.

Maria yelled at her daughter that night.

She didn't mean it, not really. Maria's never really been angry at Monica - only hopelessly enamored and in love with her little girl, the light of her life. Monica's personality is as bubbly as her favorite sunshine beam color and Maria loves her around the moon and back.

Carol could probably lap that in her sleep. Maria thinks it regardless.

She blows out a restless, irritated breath. Tonight she's cuddled beneath a thick blanket from the couch, hands wrapped around a mug of tea who's water wasn't instantly warmed by Carol's hands. It's no longer warm. She doesn't notice.

Maria's never thought of herself as pining. She never thought she would wait around for anyone - much less _Carol_ , who was always walking backward three steps in front of her if not sprinting side-by-side with her.

 _Both of them as stubborn as mules and inseparable as them,_  Lawson had chuckled.

"This is stupid," she chides herself as she stands. Her tea has long gone cold and she sets it down on the porch rail listlessly.

Bundling up the blanket in her arms, she pads back into the house and distributes it on the couch. She'll fold it in the morning - it's late and sleep is pulling at her eyes.

Maria steps back outside, hand wrapping around the cold handle of her mug when there's a thud behind her and she whirls.

"Hey," Carol whispers, hair falling around her shoulders as the glow disappears. There's a bruise on her chin and a scratch on her neck that runs to beneath the collar of her suit but her eyes are bright and hesitant and Maria thinks she's never seen anyone as beautiful as her partner.

"Oh my god," someone breathes. Maria realizes it's _herself_.

She doesn't know if she sets down the mug or drops it - all Maria knows is she's running headfirst into Carol's arms and gathering her up with a choked sob.

With all the fierceness Maria remembers, Carol hugs back.

Dimly, Maria thinks that she's gotten shorter since she last saw her - until Carol bows into her embrace, Maria realizes her shoulders are hunched. She's literally carrying the weight of the universe on her back.

"You came back," Maria whispers tearily. Carol's arms tighten.

"Always."

Maria pulls back. She feels breathless, flying free and untethered through the atmosphere - she wonders if Carol feels like this all the time. She's piloted several aircrafts in her life. The swoop of her stomach is something totally different than Zero-G.

She thinks Monica's going to scream in the morning.

"You came home to us," she murmurs even softer, hand coming up to cup Carol's cheek. "You came home to  _me."_

Her thumb dashes away the first tear that leaks from Carol's eye. Maria makes a mournful noise as Carol's eyes close and more tears slide down her face but there's a blissful, quiet smile on her lips.

Maria leans in to kiss away any trace of sadness she can find.

When they pull back and Maria's leaning back from her tip-toes, Carol's eyes are no longer teary but there's a sheen Maria recognizes easily.

"I'll always come home to you," Carol breathes before her hand comes around Maria's, still on her cheek. Maria's breath goes ragged as Carol moves her palm to her mouth. " _Always_ , Maria. This is home."

She presses open-mouthed kisses to Maria's palm between words. _"You. Are. Home."_

Maria kisses her then, fierce and quick that melts into something softer, lingering. They're both crying now, tears intermingling with each other's as they reach for the other and press their lips together over and over again until neither can breathe.

When they tumble into the house, hands full of broken pottery pieces, Carol peppers kisses down Maria's neck when she throws the shards away. Somehow, they make it up the stairs and down the hall without waking Monica or knocking the pictures off the wall - _success_ , Maria thinks.

She pulls Carol down atop her as Carol's hands cradle the back of her head, even now making sure she's safe. A warmth blooms in Maria's chest that roars through her whole body when Carol kisses her, body-cradling her own into the covers.

They don't talk the rest of the night. They don't have to.

Lousiana sunrises are stunning.

After almost nine years, Carol sees one again. Maria kisses her shoulder as Carol watches the sun blaze across the sky, bringing sticky, humid heat and the promise of a new day. She knows Carol will have to leave again - she has an obligation to the universe.

She knows Carol will always come home, though. To the house, to Monica.

To  _Maria_.


End file.
